


I Still Remember

by rocknrolljunkie989



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Regret, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocknrolljunkie989/pseuds/rocknrolljunkie989
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Dan watches Jev's podium in London, he remembers an incident between the two of them from years before.</p>
<p>Inspired by I Still Remember - Bloc Party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Still Remember

**Author's Note:**

> _I should have kissed you by the water_  
>  You should have asked me for it  
> I would have been brave  
> You should have asked me for it  
> ([ \- Bloc Party)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ziDdEAmsNBE)

Dan isn’t there when Jev makes it on podium in London.

It’s strange. Dan hasn’t kept up with a whole lot of the series (he had intended to at first, and he’d _really_ intended to when he learned that Jev had signed on with a team there, but…) so he doesn’t actually know what Jev’s car looks like until that morning in Mexico where he’s curled up watching the championship rounds on a hotel bed. He spends a lot of time thinking about how disconcerting it is to see the Frenchman through a television screen instead of in person.

As he watches, Dan is overcome with a strange, overwhelming sense of loss, and all he can think of is the fact that this isn’t the way things should be.

He doesn’t remember how old they were, but they were young. They were on break, and Jev had dragged them to a beach down in Nice. Jules was there - his family owned the place they were staying at - and so was his girlfriend, and even Sam popped in for a couple days with some of his mates, but Dan barely remembers seeing any of them. All he remembers is Jev.

They had snuck off one night, leaving everyone behind as Sam tried to teach them a strange card game. It had started off as a simple excursion to a place where Dan had discovered a little family of crabs and ended up turning into a long, long walk down the beach. He still remembers a lot about that night. For as warm as the night had been, they’d walked so close that the backs of their knuckles brushed together after every few steps, sending little chills throughout his body. Eventually, they had found a quiet enough place - or maybe they had walked long enough that the last few beachgoers had decided to retire for the night - and sat down next to one another near the water. The waves lapped at the toes they dug into the sand. Their shoulders were crusted with sea salt, and that was the only barrier separating the two of them; if Dan were to have moved even slightly, he would have practically been sitting on Jev’s lap.

Jev looks so good up on podium. He has a natural aura of confidence about him that seems right at home on one of those three steps, and it’s a shame he’s been deprived of that for so long. The colors of his race suit are… interesting - Dan thinks he’d definitely prefer Jev in Red Bull blue, or maybe even Ferrari red, if he’s honest - but that doesn’t take anything away from the expression on his face. There’s joy there, yes, but also something akin to relief.

They had talked all night, and Dan wishes he could remember their exact words, but his recollection of things like that has never been good to begin with, and it was made all the worse then. His stomach had been doing strange flip-flops, like it was filled with angry butterflies, and it would send shivers running down his spine at the same time as it filled him with warmth. There was a sense of expectation, of disbelief. Dan didn’t know what he was waiting for, but it had made him lightheaded and giddy.

They had talked about the future. He can, at least, remember that much, but exact words and verbatim phrases have long since been lost to him. He doubts he could have even remembered them twenty minutes after the fact. What he’s left with are images. A mental image of the two of them on podium had formed that night; side-by-side, they had been wearing Red Bull Racing overalls and were beaming at one another with trophies held high, and it was the only future that Dan could even really see for the two of them. They had gone through so much else together, they were about to go through so much more together; it only made sense that his conception of success in the future should involve Jev, too.

He remembers Jev next to him, and the sound of their laughter crashing over the waves, and how their fingers kept brushing together in the sand, and the way it sent his heart shooting up into his throat each time. He remembers thinking, maybe we shouldn’t be doing that. He remembers thinking, but I like it too much to stop. He remembers thinking, it won’t go much farther than this, it can’t, it’s just the beach, it’s just Nice, it’s the beer we shared, it’s the ocean, it’s this, it’s that, it’s everything, it’s nothing, it’s _fine_.

In London, Jev accepts his trophy and displays it proudly to a crowd who cheers him on, and this is never the angle from which Dan wanted to see him succeed. Just like in his dream, they should have been standing next to one another, sharing a podium at the end of a hard-fought Formula 1 race. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.

Young. That’s how Dan would describe his past self. Painfully young, and more than painfully naive. Somehow, that breathless feeling didn’t click for him until it was too late, until they had fallen silent next to one another, until Jev had turned just slightly, until suddenly Dan’s whole world became a pair of vulnerable caramel eyes that kept breaking their mutual gaze to flicker down at his lips.

That breathless feeling didn't click until long after Jev had leaned in, until they had hovered just a hair’s breadth away from brushing their lips together. It must not have lasted more than fifteen seconds, but Dan was quite sure that he had lived an entire lifetime within that millimeter of space he and Jev were too terrified to actually occupy. The wheels of the world had stopped turning for those few, brief seconds. Dan can’t remember much about that night, but each and every one of those eternal seconds has been seared into his memory, a perpetual brand of his ignorance.

It was in that short span of time that Dan had allowed himself to actually consider the possibilities that could lay ahead for himself and Jev - for once, they weren’t racing related.

And then the moment was over.

On the TV, there’s a shot of Petra.

Jev had looked so hurt that night, and he’d tried to laugh it off when he pulled away and sat back, but a wall of distance had been built between them that Dan had never been able to cross again. The Australian could feel it right away. He could see it in the way Jev scooted away from him, could hear it in the way the tone of Jev’s voice had become remote. And Dan knew right away that things had changed between them for good.

It’s probably better this way. Jev has Petra. Dan still has Jemma. Jev is scoring podiums. Dan is scoring podiums. The fact that they’re in different series… it’s just a minor detail in the scheme of things, really.

They had walked back together that night, but the only sound to be heard was that of the waves. Dan had stayed out by the bonfire that had been lit in their absence. Jev retired back to the room they’d been sharing for the night. Neither of them said anything in the morning, but Jev didn’t look at Dan, either, and Dan didn’t know how to breach the subject.

They’re showing race highlights now that all the drivers have left the podium. Jev’s overtaking on a circuit that had seemed impossible even to drive down is a prominent feature. Dan isn’t sure why the sight of the creamsicle-colored Andretti makes him feel so choked up, but he makes his best attempt at ignoring it.

Dan and Jev were teammates within the year, and they were friends who still spent time together away from the circuit, but that was all they ever were, and the Australian has spent so much time since then wondering just how different things would have been if he had finished the kiss that Jev had started that night. He wonders what reparations he could have made if only he had talked to Jev about it afterward. Dan spends a lot of time wondering.

There’s another shot of Jev, of the post-race interview, and even now, his heart skips a beat.

He’s starting to think that maybe ‘wondering’ and ‘regretting’ have started to become one and the same thing.


End file.
